


To Feel at Least a Bit Better

by ChillinbytheFire



Series: Merry is Maytime fills [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillinbytheFire/pseuds/ChillinbytheFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Amon Ereb, Maglor is nearly broken down with misery. On a sleepless night, he tries to make himself feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Feel at Least a Bit Better

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [merryismaytime2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/merryismaytime2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> A lonely Maglor masturbates because it is the only time he feels anything but pain and loss and guilt.

It was so quiet in the middle of the night, with no one around, that Maglor simply couldn't help himself. Especially considering the fact that he was woefully unable to fall asleep. He should—he knew he should. After all, he would be up before dawn to train the twins in sword-fighting. Yet rest eluded him, for the same reason as always.

It was the pain—the same darn pain—that weighed upon his mind and heart whenever Maglor wasn't completely busy securing the fortress, mentoring Elrond and Elros, or engaged in strategic and diplomatic meetings. It squeezed his heart and clawed at his stomach. It always brought a flood of his tears to the back of his eyes, just waiting to burst.

And so, fully covered by thick furs that protected him from the freezing night air, he slid his hand under them, reaching down to his mid-thighs and pulling up his sleep-shirt. Back in Tirion, where the nights were always mild, Maglor would sleep naked. It made him feel free and unfettered after a day spent wearing stuffy royal robes. Not anymore though. Amon Ereb was far too cold to sleep without anything on.

He had rarely done this before coming to Middle Earth, not often having felt the need for it. Now, however, his secret nighttime indulgences were part of what kept him sane, what prevented grief from turning into madness.

Maglor wrapped his hand about his still-limp shaft. He started stroking it lightly, letting the blood rush in, along with the pleasant warmth it brought. An outside observer who knew him, and who saw the thoughtfulness and care with which he initially stroked himself, might say he was thinking of his late wife—or someone else whom he had desired, or still did.

Maglor would laugh in that person's face. Thoughts of those he loved, whether living or dead, only killed him further, and never awakened his flesh. No. The only pleasure Maglor would ever feel from now on would be through himself and by himself. To be with another was to make himself liable to more pain.

Maglor's cock was fully hard now, and he stroked it more quickly, with a firmer grip. All his anxiety and grief was gone from his mind now, as he fully focused on stoking the fire between his legs. Sweat started breaking out on his skin as the temperature in the bed increased.

He pumped his member with a steady rhythm, his breath becoming more ragged as sensation took the place of rational thought. The only words in his mind: _faster, faster._ Using the fluid seeping from his tip for lubrication made the job easier, though his hand became more tired, and his wrist started aching. Nevertheless, he kept on going, his hand a blur. Release was so deliciously close, yet so frustratingly unattainable. 

Becoming annoyed with himself for not being able to get there, for not achieving completion as quickly as he would like, he threw the covers off of his body, using his other hand to tease and pinch his nipples, now protruding nicely thanks to the blast of cold air. Finally, he came, gasping after having held his breath for the last few minutes. Maglor's sight was blurry, his skin burning. The only focus was on the delicious waves pulsing through his member, shooting out the warm liquid that covered his hand and belly.

As quickly as all those wonderful sensations had come about, they were gone just as fast. All that was left was emptiness as Maglor's breath calmed and the heat left him. An emptiness that was quickly becoming filled by the same grief and regret he had tried so desperately to forget, to destroy.

Maglor sobbed into the quiet night as the dam of tears finally broke. It was always this way—a feeling of excitement, of pure bliss… followed by the knowledge that everything is still as it was, that the curse was still upon him and his brother. That _everything_ comes to an end.

 

 


End file.
